The Right Thing Is The Last Thing Rowland Wants To Do

January 11, 2004|By Michele Jacklin

Charlie Hustle and Johnny Hustle have a lot more in common than a fondness for playing their hunches. Neither man is capable of seeing the error of his ways.

If I didn't know better, I would have guessed that it was Johnny Hustle, aka Connecticut Gov. John G. Rowland who said, ``I'm sure that I'm supposed to act all sorry or sad or guilty now that I've accepted that I've done something wrong. But you see, I'm just not built that way.''

Alas, it was Charlie Hustle, aka Pete Rose, who penned those words in his just-released autobiography, ``My Prison Without Bars.'' After denying for 14 years that he had bet on baseball games, Rose now admits that he did. So he's confessed to fibbing but shrugs off his misconduct as a giant yawner.

``I'm sorry it happened, and I'm sorry for all the people, fans and family that it hurt. Let's move on.''

Let's move on? What is it about breaking the rules and dishonesty that Rose doesn't get?

It was a sense of entitlement that drove Rose to believe he was bigger than baseball. And it was a sense of entitlement that led Rowland to break the rules, accept gifts in defiance of the ethics code, pad his income with phony-baloney deals, lie about his actions and then profess that he's done nothing too terribly wrong.

It's that same selfishness that now compels Rowland to dig in his heels instead of leaving office posthaste, which would be best for Connecticut residents and the state Republican Party.

Then again, Rowland has never given a fig about his Republican compatriots, hanging them out to dry when it suited his purposes. As one griped, ``If you treat people like [garbage] on your way up, don't expect them to be there on the way down.'' Put another way, what goes around comes around, and what's coming around is a political knife in the back. Et tu, Johnny Hustle.

By week's end, there were fewer Republicans running for cover and a steadily rising number who were breaking ranks, exhorting Rowland to resign. The governor's staff was screening GOP lawmakers before they were allowed to attend his coffee klatches; Republicans who were predisposed to resignation were told to stay away, though a few, such as Sen. John Kissel of Enfield, managed to slip through.

You've got to feel sorry for House GOP leader Robert Ward, a decent and honorable guy who's had to put on his game face every day and feign support for the guv, even though Rowland stuck it to Ward's caucus members again and again (think millionaires' tax, Cross Sound cable and Sooty Six) by promising one thing, nailing down their commitments and then cutting deals with the Democrats.

To be sure, there won't be many glum Republicans when Rowland rides off into the sunset. The same could be said for Democrats, though they were tied up in knots last week trying to figure out what, if anything, they should do about a scandal that was carrying them along like a tidal wave.

In advance of Tuesday's summit with Rowland, the four Democratic leaders had agreed that they would refrain from asking Rowland to resign. A day later, Senate President Pro Tem Kevin B. Sullivan became the first leader to urge Rowland to step down. House Majority Leader James Amann, who had wanted to do that from the outset, was beside himself but held his tongue.

Thursday's six-hour House Democratic caucus was a somber affair, with a majority of members saying they favor the creation of an impeachment or investigatory committee. On Friday, House Republicans endorsed the idea of a bipartisan inquiry, and Senate Democrats en masse called for Rowland's resignation.

If it wasn't obvious before Rowland's televised speech Wednesday evening, it's obvious now: He has no intention of going gentle into that good night. Desperation is too mild a word to describe his mindset. Public service has been his lifelong passion, his reason for living and, sadly, his gravy train.

Wednesday's bombshell headline that he is part and parcel of the 15-month, hydra-headed grand jury investigation marks the final unraveling. For nearly a year, speculation has been building as to whether the feds would go after Rowland for possible income tax evasion. Now it's out: Criminal investigators have issued subpoenas for his tax returns and other personal documents.

Yet the governor had the audacity to ask us for our patience, forgiveness and understanding -- and, most important, for another chance.

``Those of you who know me,'' he said Wednesday evening, ``you know my true character.''

That, Johnny Hustle, is the problem.

Michele Jacklin is The Courant's political columnist. Her column appears every Wednesday and Sunday. To leave her a comment, please call 860-241-3163.